


Can We Get the D. I. in HD? or 3D?

by second_skin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Did I Say a Thousand--More Like A Billion, M/M, Nonsense, The Face That Launched a Thousand Wanks, We All Fancy You Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_skin/pseuds/second_skin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>John and Mycroft share a simple pleasure. It's less fattening than cake, after all.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can We Get the D. I. in HD? or 3D?

 

Anthea nodded, barely glancing up, and waved him towards the door of Mycroft's office.

John shrugged. Gave up chatting that one up months ago. Ever since he'd fallen hard for someone else--someone taller, with gorgeous eyes, and . . .

"Mycroft, _what_ the hell are you doing?"

Mycroft jumped back and fell noisily to the floor. Almost bashed his head on the desk. Blushing. Stammering. "You, you should-- should have knocked, John."

John snickered. "Were you . . ?"

 _No point in denying it_ , thought Mycroft. _Caught in the act, after all_. "Licking the telly? Yes. Yes, I was. What of it? You simply wouldn't understand . . ."

John closed the door behind him. "Oh, I understand." He grinned and winked.

Mycroft blushed a deeper shade of pink, and smiled. "You too, then?"

"Me too."

"He's just so sexy at those press conferences, isn't he?"

"God, yes! I forgot they had scheduled the thing for this morning. Listen‚ why don't we watch together?" John suggested, peering over Mycroft's shoulder as a reporter stood to loudly hammer home another insinuating question. _Mmmmm_. _A little anger flashed in those brown eyes_. Mycroft let out an involuntary squeak.

"Oh, well . . . I suppose that might be all right. Uh . . . do you mind if I . . . "

"Masturbate? No, not at all--mind if I join you?"

"Oh. Uh. Very well. Just try not to make too much noise, John. I love the sound of his voice . . ."

John nodded gleefully, and offered a mock salute. "Understood."

Mycroft slipped discreetly behind his desk before unzipping his trousers, while John, never shy, dropped his jeans and red pants to his ankles and positioned himself comfortably on the office sofa. It was a complex case, so the questions and answers were likely to take at least another half an hour, with the camera focused on D. I. Lestrade's face and hands-- those fumbling, gesticulating thick-fingered hands --the entire time.

"Christ, he's licking his lips again," said John shakily.

Mycroft could only groan softly. "Oh my . . . oh my God in heaven . . . yes, yes, yes."

 

In the front office, Anthea dimmed the lights a bit, turned on the small television in the corner and made sure she had the post-wank tissues ready for later, when Mycroft called for them. Then she clicked the iVibrate app on her new mobile, leaned back in her chair, and sighed.

Some days her job was thoroughly satisfying.

 


End file.
